Holding it Together and Still Showing Up

It's show season. The kids are buzzing. The parents have questions. If you even have a printer, you’re trying to keep it alive with nothing but willpower and a paperclip...and somehow, everyone needs a hair tutorial...again.

If it feels like your studio is a second home right now, well, same. At one point, mine actually was. A single door separated my apartment from my business and I breathed the job 24/7 (but that’s a story for another post).

We’re in it, and it’s a lot. It’s loud, messy and high-stakes in a way that shouldn’t feel high-stakes, but absolutely does. Even when we try to keep things rooted in values, growth and compassion, we’re still surrounded by pressure to polish and perfect.

Here’s what I’m reminding myself (and maybe you need it, too):

This isn’t about flawlessness, nor how together everything looks. It’s not about proving anything. It’s about how we show up-- and showing up doesn’t always look like leading from the front of the room with perfect posture and a clipboard full of notes.

Sometimes, it looks like sitting on the floor with a student who’s too overwhelmed to stand.

Sometimes, it’s choosing presence over performance, like pausing rehearsal to check-in when someone’s tears say more than their turnout ever could. 

It’s remembering that growth doesn’t always look linear, and confidence doesn’t always look loud.

Showing up is knowing when to push and when to pull back. It’s giving a kid the space to stumble, and the safety to try again. It’s building trust first, then technique. It’s not demanding perfection, but honoring effort. It’s making room for every kind of dancer, every kind of day. It’s celebrating the wins-- big and small-- and teaching our students that they are more than the sum of their performances.

We show up by modeling what it looks like to care without caving, to lead without ego, and to keep our expectations high without making them conditional. We show up because we remember what it’s like to feel unseen, and we’ve made it our mission to make sure that no dancer in our care ever feels that way.

Some people won’t get that. Their expectations might not align with what we’re building, and that’s okay. We can listen, explain, stay open, and still stay grounded in who we are. We can find common ground where it exists, and keep moving when it doesn’t.

Our job isn’t to be everything to everyone. Our job is to be steady, present and purposeful.

If you’re holding all of this together right now-- your students, your staff, yourself-- without totally losing your mind? Give yourself the credit your deserve. Things may feel messy right now, but the way you show up is holding it all together.

Want to share your story? Drop your most unforgettable spring show moment below. Chaos loves company!